


Destiny's Child (fate has been unkind to you)

by flowers_your_way



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying Jack Kline, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Kline Gets a Hug, Jack Needs a Hug, Nightmares, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Soulless Jack Kline, jack kline gets his soul back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24993967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowers_your_way/pseuds/flowers_your_way
Summary: 15x13 CodaJack Kline gets his soul back.  Guilt doesn't settle well.  Good thing Sam is an amazing father.In other words, Sam thought he couldn't get any luckier when Cas brought Jack back to the bunker. The return of his soul is even luckier.  If only Sam could get Jack to see it.
Relationships: Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	Destiny's Child (fate has been unkind to you)

**Author's Note:**

> I really miss season 15 and I've been thinking about our poor boy Jack. The show would never properly address it anyways, but I hate a cliff hanger so I had to try to fix it. Hope you like it!

That’s his kid.

That’s  _ his  _ kid, sitting there in front of him, weeping. But Sam can not find it in himself to move. Cas and Dean stand silently next to him, also stunned to silence. 

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me _

Jack is staring up at them with those big tearful eyes and Sam cannot move. Dean wastes no time, shaking his head in frustration and stalking out of the room. Sam feels an ache in his gut when Jack lays his head down on the table and sobs even harder. Poor Castiel, with his well meaning aloof manner, steps forward with one hand raised to gently pat his back.

“No, no” Jack frantically shakes his head and darts out of the kitchen. The door slams down the hallway, leaving silence in its wake. Cas stares at Sam apologetically. He stuffs his hands in his trench coat and furrows his brow, as if he is trying to figure out what to do next.

“Perhaps I should go speak with Dean? If he will be willing to listen” Sam just nods his head because his mouth has quit working, along with his feet. When his brain finally lets his feet move, he walks straight to his room, digs out the photo of his mother, and lays down in his bed. The rest of the bunker is silent.

Xxxxx

It’s 2 am when he finds himself outside of Jack’s door. He just can’t help it. That’s  _ his  _ kid laying in there. It isn’t the soulless shell of a person that haunted Jack’s body for so long. He is  _ really _ back.

But, he was all alone. Sam knows Jack probably cried himself to sleep. He himself had done it so many times in the last fifteen years. He knew how it shattered his heart when Bobby looked at his heartfelt apology, all those years ago, and told him to lose his number. Only, Bobby had a demon to blame for his cruelty. Sam has no one to blame but himself.

As badly as he misses his mother, he can set that pain aside as long as his son is there. Mary’s memory is so fresh and painful but also so distant when he thinks about the boy lying just behind the door. Sam knows all too well what the soulless are capable of and Dean still forgave him. Why couldn’t they do the same for Jack?

He knows Jack is sleeping but he pushes himself up off the floor anyways. He just has to get one peak at his son. He has to check on him. He pushes the door open quietly. The light from the hallway falls on the back of Jack’s messy hair. Sam steps closer and squeezes his left palm.

It’s at that moment that Jack turns slightly in his sleep and makes a soft noise. Sam stills and hates himself for waking him up. But Jack jerks violently over to face him with his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his sounds of distress become louder. It’s clear he’s in the throws of a nightmare. Sam moves swiftly to the bed to wake him up.

“Hey hey, Jack. Wake up. It’s just a dream buddy. Wake up, wake up!” Sam shakes him and tries to pull him upright. But Jack is still moaning in distress and tears are starting to leak out of his eyes. 

It’s only a few seconds later when Jack bolts upright, breathing heavy and still sobbing. Poor kid hasn’t been able to do anything but cry since he got his soul back. Sam pulls Jack’s head into his shoulder and rubs soothing circles on his back. “Shh shhh it’s alright Jack. It’ll be ok.” And to his surprise, Jack only holds on even tighter. 

“I’m sorry Sam. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean too” the sentence is broken up by hiccups and Sam worries Jack might hyperventilate if he doesn’t calm down.

“I know Jack. I know. Shhh. We can talk about it in the morning. Just breathe right now.” 

But Jack, ever his kid, cannot let it go. Jack refuses his hold and turns to face him. He breathes in deeply to collect himself. His breath still stutters. Sam knows it’s all he can do to pull himself together. He knows it a little too well.

“I’ve spent my whole life missing my mother and Castiel told me that you had too but..” and his sentence hiccups as he squeezes the bed sheets tightly and hides his face. Sam wants so badly to comfort him but Jack raises his hand in refusal. “I didn’t mean to do it Sam. She just wouldn’t shut up and I needed it to be quiet. Afterwards, I knew I should be upset, horrified, but I couldn’t…” He trails off, hiccuping and crumbling in on himself.

Sam reaches out for his boy again. He can’t stand seeing him in so much pain. He needs him in his arms. But Jack just looks up at him, teary eyed. “Why are you even letting me stay here? How can you even look at me? I KILLED Mary, Sam. I KILLED her. I’m Lucifer’s son. So how….”

A fury fills Sam in a way that he did not expect and even he is surprised by his outburst. “You are not Lucifer’s son!” He swallows his guilt when Jack flinches and quiets his voice. “You are not Lucifer’s son. You are Kelly Kline’s son. You are Castiel’s son. You are Dean’s son and well…” he stutters, “You are my son.”

Poor Jack just cries even harder with his head in his hands. He cannot look Sam in the eye but Sam needs him to understand what he is about to say next. “Ya know, I was in your shoes once. There was a time that I did not have a soul and I hurt people because of it.” Jack’s head pops up in curiosity and he wipes his nose on his sleeve. “My soulless self was cold and calculated. I did whatever I could to complete the hunt in the easiest way possible. I used civilians as bait. I let Dean be turned into a vampire. Hell, I tried to kill the man who was basically my surrogate father.”

“But you said  _ tried _ . You didn’t actually kill him Sam.”

“Jack, that does not mean my hands are clean. I still killed those civilians. I killed my own grandfather by accident after I got my soul back because he got too deep in my head.” Jack looks at him silently shooked. “I just wanted him to be quiet. I thought he was possessed.”

“You killed Mary’s father?”

“Yeah I did and I don’t think I ever told her that. And I hated myself for so long because I wondered what she would think. I was pretty messed up. My soul was... uhm... taken captive while my body was hunting. And when they fused, I found myself learning both how badly I had been hurt and how badly I had hurt other people. I couldn’t forgive myself. But do you know what Dean told me?”

Jack shakes his head feverently with all his energy focused on Sam.

“He told me that it wasn’t me. My true self was in my soul. My body did terrible things but I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“Dean can’t even look at me Sam. You’re his brother. He’d never say that to me.”

“He will come around.” And Sam hopes against hope that he isn’t lying, “But I am telling you this right now. It wasn’t you. I forgive you.”

The look Jack gives him is one of surprise, his eyes wide with disbelief. Sam can’t pretend it doesn’t break his heart when he squeaks out a quiet but resounding, “Why?”

How many times had Sam asked himself that very question? How many times had he questioned his own forgiveness late at night? Hell, he still does although he’d never tell anyone. Jack is just a child, honest and open. Sam knows whatever he says next will be the words Jack plays over and over in his head when insomnia refuses to leave him alone. 

So he ponders for a moment, afraid of the gravity on his tongue. “I forgive you because you didn’t ask for any of this. I forgive because from the second you were born, you felt like you had to apologize for the actions of people before you. I forgive you because I still see the good in you, the innocence.”

He can see the visible tremble in Jack’s hands now when he brings them up to wipe his eyes. Sam puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder and tries to meet his eyes.

“Jack, I forgive you because it wasn’t your fault, because you’re my son, because I love you. And now that you’re back, I’m not letting you go again.”

Jack finally breaks and Sam knows his words were even more needed than he thought. He crumbles into him and it’s that moment that Sam realizes that he can count the number of hugs he’s given Jack on one hand. That is going to change.

Jack sobs into his shoulder and Sam holds on tighter. “I missed you so much.”

He thinks he hears Jack mumble something into the collar of his shirt. 

Xxxxx

It’s nearing 4 in the morning when Jack starts to drift off again. Jack is calm and quiet now. There’s probably no reason for Sam to stay through the remainder of the night. Men don’t do this. They don’t cry and comfort all night long, especially not Winchester men. However, Jack is just a child, no matter how old he looks. Children deserve to be held. So Sam stays and tells himself it’s only for Jack’s good.

Jack needs this. Jack. Not him. Don’t get confused.

Sam props himself up on the pillows, knowing his neck will hate him in a few hours. He gently guides a sleeping Jack to lay down with his head resting on Sam’s clavicle.

He can’t help himself when he runs his hand through Jack’s hair and down to his shoulders. He can’t stop himself from looking at his sleeping face. He can’t deny that Jack is really there with the weight of him on his chest.

So there, in the middle of the night, Sam has time to think. This is usually a dangerous thing but tonight, he relishes the chance to take advantage of the quiet. He gives himself a moment to replay those terrible days when Jack was not here in this bunker, in this bed, safe and sound. He allows himself to remember the light searing through his eyes and his form crumbling to the ground. He didn’t know why it hurt so much then when Jack, the real Jack, had been dead for a long time. He supposed that’s because it was the permanent death of hope that he would ever see his son again. He is glad no one is awake to see the tear that rolls down his cheek.

Then he sees the “lucky” bar in his head and wishes he could live that entire day over. They told him that he and his brother were heroes and rewarded them extra luck. It was more appreciation than they had seen in a long time. Sam smiles to himself when he thinks of Dean stopping at every gas station on the way home to buy lottery tickets, only to be pissed at every single loss. He can hear Dean’s exasperated voice in his head asking “What the hell kind of luck did we get, Sammy?! Seriously, this must not be working!” But Sam knew the second that they stepped in the bunker and Jack came from behind Cas’s back like a bashful puppy; that is when he knew the luck wasn’t broken.

Fuck the lottery. 

He would spend every stroke of luck he had been given to feel a living Jack in his arms again. This is where his luck had gone and he was so fucking happy, he didn’t even care about the status of Jack’s soul. So when Jack got it back again and was suddenly, really actually Jack, he figured the luck they earned that day must have been double fold.

Sam looks down at the sleeping kid on his shoulder. He seems happier in this sleep, more innocent, like a normal kid. Sam doesn’t know whether to sob silently or smile when he holds him closer. He does both, careful not to wake him as he grazes his forehead with his lips. He wishes he could pause time. 8 hours of night seem far too short when the days are so long. 

He knows Jack won’t be alright in the morning. He will probably apologize for all this in the morning with his eyes glued to the ground. He probably won’t come knocking on Sam’s door when he feels like the guilt has taken the breath out of his lungs. That’s just how Winchesters have always lived and Jack is part Winchester. 

Sam can put in the work. His back is strong enough to carry his son. Jack won’t be better for a long time, possibly ever but he will be alright. He will feel the sunshine again and find things that make the living worth it. Sam will make sure of that.

Sam can’t help but whisper it, “It’ll be alright”.

Even if Jack doesn’t believe it, it is true.

Sam will make sure of that.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please like and review if you enjoyed (I miss human interaction :( ). Stay safe out there everyone.


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